


Talk It Out

by gladdecease



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Community: crossovers100, Community: trope_bingo, Dialogue-Only, Gen, Possession, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladdecease/pseuds/gladdecease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A recording of Nerys's first session with Dr. Dax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk It Out

( - now. I-I mean, if that's alright with you. I won't record our sessions without your consent, of course.)

...no, it's okay. I mean, if it makes it easier for you, right?

(Nerys, _you_ take priority here. You _always_ take priority here. If this is uncomfortable for you, for any reason - )

No!

( - or for no reason at all, you don't need to have a reason - )

No, it's not. It doesn't bother me, I just... wasn't expecting it.

So. Where do you want to start?

(Anything you want to talk about.)

 _Anything?_ So... I could just spend the next hour ranting about policy changes Winn Adami's cronies have pushed through under Sisko's nose while I was gone, and you'd be okay with that?

(Yes.)

Really.

(We're going at your pace here Nerys, not mine. If policy is what you want to talk about, that's what we'll talk about. Though I admit, I won't be able to contribute much to the conversation.)

I think I could hold both sides of the conversation pretty well.

(You enjoy talking about policy, and politics.)

Well sure, it's my job.

Was my job.

(And you were good at it.)

I was _amazing_. I was -

It's kind of unbelievable, actually. I was only working in the mayor's office because I needed the money, at first. Hunting doesn't exactly pay the bills. But then I started to like it, and _care_ about it. Ten years later, I was the youngest mayor in the history of the town. And then...

(...and then what?)

And then the angels spoke to me.

(What did they say?)

That they needed to borrow my body. That they had work to do on Earth, and by giving them access I was helping to save the world. To prevent the Apocalypse.

(That must have seemed like a lot to ask from you.)

Honestly? No. I've spent years having my efforts frustrated by people sure they knew better than me what was right. And I spent my fair share of time not being sure that what I was doing _was_ right. Being offered the chance to do something undeniably _good_ was... well. It sounded like the answer to my prayers.

(So... what did you say?)

Yes.

I said "yes", and it was like a magic word, turning the angel into a star that fell out of the sky and burned down my throat. It _burned_ me, filled me with fire and light, filled me to the brim, until I overflowed, until I was more light than _me_ inside, and when I tried to speak I couldn't and when I tried to _move_ I couldn't and when I tried to _**breathe -**_

Sorry.

(You don't have to apologize to me. Any way you want to talk about it is fine. Shouting, getting angry, it's all fine!)

Believe me, I have no trouble getting angry. It's just that... what happened to me. It's difficult to put into words.

(Take as long as you like.)

Thank you.

...

When I was a little girl - back before I knew why we had a curfew, back before I knew why we weren't supposed to say "come in" to strangers - I would look up at the angels on the walls of the church, and wonder what it felt like to have wings. It seemed to me that wings were beauty and freedom, that to have them was to freely see beauty and to beautifully be free. And in a way, I was right. As far as holy servants _can_ be, I suppose they're free. And their wings - to those of us who can see them - they _are_ beautiful. They're almost _beyond_ beauty, they're - they're literally awe-inspiring.

I was such a fool.

(Why do you say that?)

I spent so much time wondering about their wings. I should have wondered more about their halos.

If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with Sis - with the mayor in ten minutes.

(No problem. If you need to reach me - )

I have your number, I know.

Same time next week?

(See you then.

...oh boy.)

**Author's Note:**

> For the "wingfic" square ~~yes yes basically a cop-out, but imagine kira with wings made of ~fire! not exactly "strapped to a comet" but I think it'd look cooler~~ on my [trope_bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) amnesty mini-card (found [here](http://glad-fics.livejournal.com/38550.html)) and the prompt "fire" at [crossovers100](http://community.livejournal.com/crossovers100) (my table being [here](http://glad-fics.livejournal.com/30795.html)).


End file.
